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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25853653">introspection</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymmiah/pseuds/%EB%8B%98'>님 (nymmiah)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>cunicular hope [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study, Drabble Collection, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood Spoilers, Gen, Introspection, Male Viera Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Non-Linear Narrative, Unnamed Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:14:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,490</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25853653</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymmiah/pseuds/%EB%8B%98</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An exploration into the male viera Warrior's perspective on canon events throughout FFXIV and the unspoken moments in between.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aymeric de Borel &amp; Warrior of Light, Edmont de Fortemps &amp; Warrior of Light, Emmanellain de Fortemps &amp; Warrior of Light, Gosetsu Daito &amp; Warrior of Light, Haurchefant Greystone &amp; Warrior of Light, Hien Rijin &amp; Warrior of Light, Hilda Ware &amp; Warrior of Light, Midgardsormr &amp; Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Scions of the Seventh Dawn &amp; Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Tataru Taru &amp; Warrior of Light, Yugiri Mistwalker &amp; Warrior of Light</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>cunicular hope [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1831447</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>167</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Past and Rationale</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I realise just how little I actually expounded on the Warrior's thoughts and rationale throughout the other pieces on him, and I thought I'd make a collection just focusing on his POV. Irregular updates to be expected.</p><p>This is the same Warrior as the one introduced in "leporine dreams".</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The viera could recall not the details of his past.</p><p>He could recall most events since the Calamity. However, the memories of the years before that singular event were evanescent. Should he try, he could vaguely recall a number of instances, memories of a split second and naught else to inform him what they meant.</p><p>He could have lived any number of summers, decades or centuries. His memories gave no indication for time. He would know not his number of summers of life.</p><p>What he did know was this: his name, and he knew the jungles of Othard distantly and her wealth of beauty, the boughs of her trees, the creak of her branches as they bowed under the heavy fall of rain. He knew the smell of decay, of humid fog as it rolled down the mountains high to cover the forest in grey.</p><p>He had once known the sinuous limbs of viera hidden deep within the underbrush, the eyes of his womenfolk; he had witnessed the curiosity of boys as he taught them to stalk in the underbrush, and he had learnt the songs of fauna and foe alike.</p><p>He knew the curve of his bow, etched into his palms and his very bones. He did not need memories to cradle his bow within his hands when his very body had grown around it, as the trunk of trees would wrap around stone pillars.</p><p>He knew solitude intimately, ever alone throughout the myriads of instances of his memories, and he knew the cacophony of man and his synthetic cities. Coin was what allowed a man to live, coin to trade for goods, coin to solicit the use of shelters. He knew intimately the need for gold.</p><p>He knew the smell of soil and trees, rich and verdant life permeating his lungs, seeding his flesh and spreading roots into his soul.</p><p>What he therefore knew was this: his memories of Othard had been why he had come to Gridania.</p><p>So alike the lush vivacity of his forgotten past, he found comfort in her verdant glades and birdsong, the babbling of streams and the ripeness of her fruits.</p><p>He would raise his bowarm in Gridania's defence, as he once had for the boughs of Golmore, not for clan but for coin.</p><p>And then came the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, led by naive little Minfillia who believed she could appeal to a greater nature than he could ever possess as she spoke of Eorzea and the constant threats she faced due to the beastmen and their petty gods.</p><p>The viera cared not for crystal nor Hydaelyn nor the Echo that made him so alike to the woman. She appealed to higher morals, ideals such as altruism. He couldn't give less of a damn for such things. So long as her coin kept him fed, he would continue to slay primals, regardless of title or renown it garnered.</p><p>And so she sent him out, bading him forth to deal with the amalj'aa.</p><p>Ifrit, Titan, ghosts, and voidsent--they all fell before him, chaff in the wind for all that he cared. It would have been folly to claim that such fights were easy. Nevertheless, scars and injuries mattered not to him when he would recover; more important was that his pockets were steadily lined with gold and a roof remained over his head when not adventuring.</p><p>And so, he ignored the claims that he was Hydaelyn's champion, and cared not when he was so named the <em> Warrior of Light </em>.</p><p>Bearing the Echo had no bearing upon him. For all he cared, Hydaelyn was nothing more than a distant voice that he cared naught to hear.</p><p>The viera would only ever be who he was, regardless of the copious titles they would heap upon his shoulders:</p><p>A man displaced from Othard, carrying no memories of his past save for brief instances of time, who lived and breathed by the forests rooted deep within his chest. He was naught but a man who was so moulded by the bow he carried upon his back, who cared nothing for the peoples of the world save for his own.</p><p>Throughout those five years of cognizance since the Calamity, he had been alone; throughout those unknown years of his past, he had no memories left of the people he once used to know.</p><p>A time soon came when he realised that he had steadily came to call the Waking Sands home, and her people his clan.</p><p>After all, what was a clan but the people you fought for?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mayhap the catalyst had been this:</p><p>Scions' bodies littering the glittering sands of Thanalan, Minfilia and Tataru captured, and only the dying words of Noraxia to guide them to their next destination.</p><p>In his absence, the Scions had been taken from him; rage like nothing before consumed him. It choked him, filled his chest to the brim with its molten touch; the trembling of his limbs was the child of the fury within him. He rankled in a manner that befitted not the contempt in which he had once held the Scions. Was it failure that so licked at him? Was it possession over the now-dead?</p><p>... Nay, it mattered not the reason for his rage.</p><p>No number, great or little, of softly spoken words would grant him succor from the wrath burning within his chest. He had been absent and unable to defend what belonged to him; treacherous bastards had taken advantage of his distraction--and he had paid for it with the lives of the Scions.</p><p>The gentle words from priest of Saint Adama Landama were disregarded as the Warrior buried his people in the lichyard; dirt nor holy rites spoken over the cooled bodies of the dead would not put out the burning wildfire within his heart. Such flames could only be quenched with spilled blood, with the knowledge that his people had been repaid in every measure with the flayed skin of the Garleans that had dared to attack them.</p><p>The Garleans had wished to seek the slayer of Titan. He would eagerly meet them, the entire empire if he could. Naught but endless malms of their flesh would satisfy.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Guileless Guile</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The most suspicious thing to the Warrior was how readily the elezen had claimed friendship, treating him with pomp and dignity from the very start without any request for recompense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ishgardians were renowned for their prickishness, for their general inhospitality for any race or being that were not of Coerthas--but this singular elezen seemed to refute the stereotype.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had taken solely a singular letter from a man accused to be a heretic for Haurchefant of Fortemps to open up the Camp to them as guests, and to welcome them in with a warmth that was most suspicious. An ulterior motive there had to be laying beneath that foolishly wide grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There could be no other explanation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There had to be some goal hidden behind that foolish man’s guise, some dubious desire that he wished to fulfill with the Warrior’s indebtedness upon the location of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Enterprise</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had the goal been anything as simple as a mere tumble upon some sheets, the Warrior would have had no qualms in fulfilling such a thing if only to turn that sickly doe-eyed expression away. However, the elezen seemed to care not for a quick fuck with the vaunted Warrior of Light for all his thinly veiled comments and lingering stares, and instead--continued to give, and to give and to give, to the point that it was most absurd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sincerity that imbued the elezen’s every act soon wore down his wariness for all that he fought to remain dubious of the other’s intentions. It was… most impossible to maintain a wary front, when each curt rebuff was met with a guileless smile and a ready word of friendship. This hapless elezen with his sideways ears, his grating voice and his stupid grin; the viera would one day figure out how much substance there was to his sincerity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As for now--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For now, he would accept his offers of hot cocoa, and he would watch and wait for his cards to be laid bare upon the table.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The first time I encountered Haurchefant, I honestly just dismissed him as just another NPC that wanted the WoL to do things for him. :/ and then I fell in love.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Eikons or Gods?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>What did he believe in?</p><p>Mayhap it was solely in the certainty of change, of the lack of constancy in the world. He believed in nothing but circumstance, in the strength of his own limbs and the life that forced him to yet draw breath with each second that passed.</p><p>He would believe not in the Twelve nor in the lesser gods of the beastmen, not the kami of Othard, and certainly not in the so-called Mother Crystal. Minfilia could cling as she pleased to her crystals; the viera cared not for it.</p><p>For in no realm whatsoever upon all of Hydaelyn was there a land to be found in which gods had not been summoned as if a retainer, all their mythical power made into the playthings of mortals with far more crystals than brains. He could not believe in any kami nor spirit nor god when they were but another power that could be wielded.</p><p>Such beings supposedly so powerful, and yet so easily called upon by crystal alone… they could not be gods as gods were meant to be.</p><p>Men could cry out for meaningless succor to their primals and receive naught but destruction for all their toil.</p><p>It was in this manner that he aligned with the Garleans, hated enemy though were they.</p><p>Gods, eikons, or whatever else they were called were tools. He could fault not the Garleans for viewing the primals as naught but a means to an end, for what else could they be?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>My various WoLs have different spirituality. The viera in particular is completely atheist, and considers the Mother Crystal herself to be nothing more than an occasionally helpful nuisance.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Greatest of Fools</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Initial and cursory exploration into his thoughts about individual Scions.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The viera was of the opinion that the Scions were naive and terribly organised.</p><p>They were headed by a woman who seemed not to think of consequences, placing full trust into a god that only spoke when inconvenient; they were led by a boy who barely reached his navel in height and had lived less summers than he had fingers and toes; they had a pugilist who spoke as if she had not a single thought within her head save for the impulses and compunctions of a child… and such judgements could go on and on concerning each member of the Scions. Most certainly, this list would include himself.</p><p>He had, for some unknown reason, chosen to align himself with this group. This… clan.</p><p>Mayhap there had been a time when he had desired a clan of people that were... useful, full of utility and skill. Free companies had certainly attempted to recruit him, calling him with the temptations of a group in which all were able in their own way.</p><p>However, he had come to learn that even stupid and the foolish had their place within the clan. Moreover, he had come to think that mayhap <em>he</em> was the most stupid and foolish of them all to allow himself to care so deeply for such obviously flawed members. He hardly held any affection for them, and yet--</p><p>And yet, he found himself caring far too much.</p><p>He disliked them, liked them not one whit for their senseless altruism and lack of foresight as they lumped authority upon authority onto the shoulders of one who was not yet ready for it.</p><p>However, he would show naught of his dislike, for cohesion was far more important than his dissenting thoughts, his opinions that the arrogant boy, Alphinaud, was not to be trusted with power. He was only yet one cog within this machine that was the Scions, and he knew his place. The viera was no leader, and to speak up was to take on that role.</p><p>Thus, he would stay silent and he would wait; he would be the one who reacted when the threads came loose and unravelled all that they sought to weave, and to sew back together the rending tears across their tapestry.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Trust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Through the so-called Blessing of the Echo, the viera could read any script with ease; the words became sounds within his mind, translated perfectly despite his lack of understanding how each stroke upon the parchment could denote to sound.</p><p>It was when he was asked to write that he would encounter far more difficulty--but as of yet, he had managed to avoid any situation that required him to write anything save for his own name, which he had learnt surreptitiously by peering at inn logbooks and Tataru’s own hand. Nevertheless, the quill would never rest within his hand as comfortably as his bow. He would never be a scholar nor learned astrologian, nor would he ever be able to pen thoughts down with the ease that the other Scions showed.</p><p>In the time that he spent with said Scions, of all of them it seemed that only one had noticed his discomfort with the quill. Urianger, who rarely spent time within his presence, came to him quietly.</p><p>The Warrior sat upon the harbour by the Waking Sands, looking out upon the water as the scholar approached quietly. Though it was late, the moon’s and the stars’ light shone bright enough that he could discern the features upon the ocean beyond Horizon. Each step taken by Urianger kept in time with the gentle lapping of the waves against the wooden pillars of the docks.</p><p>The steps came to a step, and the waves continued to break against the docks.</p><p>“--It hath come to mine attention that thou findst difficulty in the act of writing," came the elezen's quiet words and elaborate speech. "It will not do to have anyone find out that the vaunted Warrior of Light cannot penneth a letter, short nor long, formal nor informal."</p><p>"I will not need to write any letters." The viera replied.</p><p>"Thou knowst not what the future shall bring. It is better that thou learnst some measure of written language and not need it, than to find oneself wanting when the situation ariseth.”</p><p>Urianger’s tone had the viera glancing over his shoulder, attempting to meet his eyes. They were yet shaded by his goggles, and he could see not what expression nor emotion hid beneath. The Warrior grimaced, a scowl quickly forming upon his face.</p><p>As if taking his reticence as a cue, the elezen came forth and joined him in his silent vigil over the harbour, seating himself delicately upon a raised piece of wood.</p><p>For a moment, they both were silent as they looked out at the sea.</p><p>“Feel not shame for thy lack of knowing. Many a great man has been illiterate, mistake that not. And prithee, understand this: I wouldst teach thou if only thou wouldst accept mine offer,” Urianger said softly. “Verily, it reflecteth not badly upon thineself to accept it.”</p><p>The Warrior stood up.</p><p>“I have lived long enough without needing the skill. I shall continue without it,” he replied curtly. He turned on his heels, abandoning the archon at the docks, returning once more to the privacy of the Waking Sands.</p><p>Mayhap one could accuse him of bullheadedness—but the viera would not allow himself to be placed into such a scenario in which he was made vulnerable by his admittance of incompetence, least of all to Urianger, whom he was yet to trust.</p><p>He would not accept the man as his teacher, and he would continue to reject his help until he had come to understand the elezen’s motives.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If I were to apply in-game classes to the Warrior, he would be an Archer/Bard (but you’ll never catch him singing!), Gladiator, Weaver, Leatherworker and Botanist.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Commodify</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Kugane was… stifling. Moreso than the Ala Mhigan Quarter with its arid and sultry heat, moreso than Ishgard and its ever-encompassing </span>
  <em>
    <span>culture</span>
  </em>
  <span> and nobility; Kugane, for all its temperate weather, choked him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was it the history of its gilded walls? Or was it the hungry eyes of its multitudes of merchants, leering at him as he stepped down its streets with Tataru by his side, eagerly showing him around the markets with an ease that would never come easily to the Warrior?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most likely the latter. It gnawed at him, left him restless and uneasy. A piece of meat, perhaps, received less objectifying a stare from the patrons of a butcher.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viera originated from Othard. In Eorzea, the sight of his ears had been dismissed as an uncommon sight despite the lack of nativity of his kind to those lands. In Hingashi, he—his kind, at the very least—were supposedly a more common a sight, and yet he was entirely aberrant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stares alienated him, left him feeling as if a hare in the snow in its summer pelt; conspicuous and hunted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or, mayhap, it was more accurate to describe him as coveted in an entirely different way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hadn’t been until he had been approached by a passing merchant with an offer to be seen </span>
  <em>
    <span>spending time together</span>
  </em>
  <span> at Shiokaze Hostelry that he had understood in exactly what manner he was so coveted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was a fucking trifle.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Some viera who have denounced the Green Word enjoy a comfortable life by selling their time escorting men who wish to be seen in the presence of such exotic and cold beauties. It is no stretch for some enterprising Hingan merchants to attempt to raise their own face by being seen in the company of someone even rarer and more coveted they: the male vieran Warrior of Light, saviour of Eorzea.</p><p>Also, the viera absolutely hates Kugane. It’s far too manufactured and manicured for him to ever be at peace.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Battlelusting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Midgardsormr’s company was, for all that it was unwelcomed, at the very least </span>
  <em>
    <span>silent</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The viera could bear with the constant surveillance, the constant itch of an intolerable presence, for this sole fact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had the dragon been more verbose, it was most likely that he would have somehow broken whatever </span>
  <em>
    <span>covenant</span>
  </em>
  <span> the dragon had constructed between them in an attempt to rid himself of the overbearing presence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thus ignored the weight of the Father of Dragons upon his shoulder as he walked through the cobbled streets of Foundation, the steady snowfall blanketing him in a soft cover of white.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A considering hum escaped the dragon’s throat, but that too was ignored by him. He turned not his eyes to view that which the dragon saw, nor did he walk towards the commotion that occurred in that direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Mortals</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the dragon’s resonant voice came softly, </span>
  <b>
    <em>are so busy with making conflict amongst themselves.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>The viera finally glanced over, surprised by his speech after such a long period of graceful silence between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dragon looked far off towards a pair of hyur wrestling upon the cobbled stones of the Brume. Blood that had spilled from their tussle had already frozen upon the snow, and the viera could see the cold setting in on the hyur, their pink lips turning blue.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Peace lasts not among mortal races, with their memories as short as their lives. The horrors of war soon become myth, and they forget that which they have pledged to end.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>The viera let out a snort, turning away from the fight and striding off.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Scorn it, do you? The ceaseless fighting? Or mayhap it is the opposite with you, child of Hydaelyn. Warborn and full of battlelust...</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>With the viera's own memories being so short, encompassing a mere five summer's, it was no surprise that he was the least peaceable of men.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would ever fight, for he knew naught else.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I've come to realise that the viera is rather similar to Zenos. They both live solely to battle and to kill, even if it's for different reasons.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Tidus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I personally find Trachtoum hilarious.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The fool roegadyn, dressed in his gaudy clothes with his breast thrust out as if he were a show chocobo, seemed yet oblivious to his presence.</p><p>Continuing to chatter at great length to the Maelstrom soldier, the fool continued to dig himself deeper into the pit of his own making, speaking at length of vanquishing primals of which he had no knowledge.</p><p><em> Tidus </em>. The halfwit could not use even the correct name to call the primal.</p><p>For a second time, the insensate idiot would seek to delude others into doing his work for him, and poorly too.</p><p>The viera could tolerate much, could weather many a storm and put up with much abuse, but this senseless idiocy that made a mockery out of his own deeds? He would abide not by this.</p><p>Stepping forth, he entered the room with a hard shove at the door, causing it to slam against the wall with a resonant clatter.</p><p>If the fool had any sort of sense, he would have run the moment he saw the viera bearing down upon him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Played With As A Mouse By A Coeurl</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Defeat was a bitter pill to swallow, least of all by the hands of a Garlean freak of a prince.</p><p>Staring up at the prince as he approached, swords yet drawn, the viera bared his teeth in defiance even as his body moved not where it had been thrown. It could not move, his bones so shattered and ligaments torn by such precise cuts.</p><p>Once, in a past that was now much distant, the viera had yet often been served with the taste of defeat. When he had yet to become the Warrior, when he had been a mere adventurer with an unnatural knack for archery. However, in recent times, he had been ever champion in all that he did—whether by the Blessing of Light, or by sheer happenstance.</p><p>He was no champion in this instance.</p><p>The viera's sword lay broken upon the Ala Mhigan sand, and his bow had been thrown carelessly aside what seemed like bells ago. He could not see it now, but even had it been within his grip, it would offer him no measure of comfort or protection as the Garlean strode ever closer.</p><p>His hand could clench not into a fist, nor could he find the strength to even push himself upright, to meet the Garlean prince with defiance upon his two feet.</p><p>And how <em> agonising </em>that slow approach was.</p><p>Each step of his was slow, a tiger’s <em>prowl</em>, the tempo with which the viera was familiar. That booted heel descended silently, rocking forward to muffle the sound of his sole as he paced forward. Galvus was, indeed, a hunter in every manner.</p><p>The Warrior would not be his prey. He denied it with every broken ilm of his body, struggling to stand, desperation leading him to curse at Hydaelyn's name to <em> listen,</em> to grant him Her strength if She had so chosen him to be Her warrior--!</p><p>But as always, She was silent, and he lay there, at the mercy of Zenos yae Galvus.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I really just need a place to yell constantly about my boy that isn't here.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Changing of Climates</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was the shedding of his hair that he despised the most out of all the inconveniences of adventuring.</p><p>Leaving the cold climate of Mor Dhona behind for the searing heat of Gyr Abania had him leaving a trail of white hairs behind him, clinging to his clothes and whatever bedding he had secured until every last frost-tipped strand had been replaced with black. It itched, his scalp lit on fire at the feeling of new hairs growing.</p><p>Alphinaud's pointed comments and even sharper palm had taught him to ignore the itch, to stay his hand from scratching and pulling at his hair... at least, while he was within the boy's reach.</p><p><em> "A Warrior of Light does not go around looking half-bald with patches of hair missing!" </em> The pedantic boy had exclaimed thus, even with mirth evident in the corners of his lips. <em> "Pull at your hair all you like, but if you do--Twelve so help me, I will make sure you remain ensconced until it all grows back!" </em></p><p>At that moment as they crossed Baelsar's Wall together into the Castrum beyond to head for the Lochs, Alisaie too had grinned as a mirror image of her brother, enjoying the momentary brevity of such an exchange.</p><p>Familiarity had bred within the boy an irrepressible joy in mocking and teasing his fellows. In this manner, he was alike his sister, daggers for tongues and the discerning eyes of a lanner. The viera, for all it irritated him, was disinclined to stop either of them.</p><p>The elezen twins had long since earned their right to heckle, having grown immensely throughout their travels.</p><p>Nevertheless, their combined mischief could distract him not from the incessant ache of his scalp, and as they continued to move through Gyr Abania, intent on fighting Garlemald off one last time, his mood yet soured with each strand of hair he regrew.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I find it hilarious to think about Alphinaud trying to stop the viera from scratching his head but the viera keeps slinking off to a private place to pull out large handfuls of hair.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Cutlery and Conversation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The clinking of cutlery upon porcelain was a sound most quaint. A mark of civility that he had never afforded himself, caring not for maintaining any manner of <em> culture </em> when he had never claimed himself to belong to either the cultures of Gridania nor Ishgard.</p><p>Before him sat the Lord Commander whose azure eyes gleamed far too bright, as if they themselves were silverware catching the fire's light.</p><p>"Tell me about your travels," Aymeric bade. "I have already confessed, what seems like eons ago, that I had followed your exploits with far too great a degree of fascination… but I would hear it from your own lips. The tales told by bards and rumourmongers have doubtlessly lost some manner of truth with each retelling of your tale."</p><p>The viera grimaced.</p><p>"Shall I begin then?" Aymeric asked, unphased by his silence. "If I recall correctly, you first came to Coerthas in search of Master Garlond's airship, the <em> Enterprise </em>, in order to put down the Ixal's primal. I understand that in this time, you had uncovered a plot against House Haillenarte and saved Lord Francel's life from an imposter of an inquisitor, and had braved the depths of the doomed Stone Vigil allowing us to recapture it from our former enemy…" It was here he trailed off, clearly awaiting for the Warrior to fill in the rest of the details out of his own accord.</p><p>The Warrior sat back, and watched Aymeric as he gazed back expectantly, his smile lessening not despite his long silence.</p><p>The viera looked away to the side. </p><p>… Mayhap that had been the obvious reason. It was lesser known that another catalyst for the viera's journey here had been in search for the Scions, to recover what remained of his people from the Garleans.</p><p>The thought of the events in their entirety elicited a form of nostalgia within him; it had been these turn of events that had introduced him to the greatest of fools and knights, who had been far too true a friend to warrant such a hostile beginning to their acquaintanceship. Doubtlessly, it had been that selfsame knight that had given Aymeric the full details of this time, and had painted the entire ordeal with his rose-tinted view.</p><p>"The story is not nearly as grand as you may have heard it told." The Warrior said finally, quietly. "It began thus: with the slaying of Titan, and the Garlean's subsequent search for the one who did it."</p><p>Aymeric's irrepressible smile finally faded here, having caught the viera's poorly hidden melancholy. "I would assume by the tone of your words that they had found him. Found you."</p><p>"Nay. They found the Scions instead."</p><p>The viera set down his cutlery, and began to quietly speak of his travels, and through it all, the Lord Commander listened in a stunned rapture.</p><p>The burial of the Scions, the discovery of Cid under the mask of Marques... Coerthas and his toil to earn his right to locate the <em>Enterprise</em>, Garuda, Castrum Centri, then Castrum Meridianum, and finally the Ultima weapon in the heart of the Praetorium--each tale merged into one long monologue for all that the viera struggled to find the words to describe it.</p><p>When his voice finally failed and his memory faltered, the viera stopped.</p><p>Aymeric inhaled sharply, loudly, as if he had forgotten to breathe throughout his tale.</p><p>"My friend…" The Lord Commander murmured. "No bard could have accurately captured such a harrowing tale. And to think that this encompasses solely a few short moments of your travels!"</p><p>The viera closed his eyes.</p><p>"... The moogle king came next."</p><p>"I beg your pardon?" Aymeric's response was evidently stunned here.</p><p>The viera opened his eyes once more and continued to speak, watching how Aymeric smiled at the unflattering descriptions that the viera gave upon the queer race of winged beings.</p><p>And so the night wore on, with the viera offering unpracticed words in return for the Lord Commander's unpretentious kindness.</p><p>Never had he spoke so much at length, and it was clear that Aymeric understood the effort that it taxed him, for he often spoke up to allow him to rest his voice when it began to crack and roughen.</p><p>And when he finally asked the Warrior what it was he intended to do once his work was over--they were interrupted by a knight of Fortemps.</p><p>Mayhap Aymeric would never receive his answer. The viera had none to give.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Whoops my hand slipped and I keep writing too much about Aymeric. &gt;&gt;</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Royal Stature</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hien was far smaller than he had anticipated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing behind the estranged prince, the viera stared down at the seated hyur, whose shorter frame seemed to lack all of the strength that Gosetsu himself carried around effortlessly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Long hair, a taunting tail for an enemy to grab; a shoulder bared and unarmoured; a beautifully crafted sword at his hip--samurai, it seemed, were as variable and deceptive in their form as their ninja counterparts. Or mayhap, those hailing from Hingashi and Doma were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The prince seemed frail. Seated above the vast grass fields of the Azim Steppes, the prince was a small splash of yellow amongst emerald green.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A scholarly or poetic man could draw parallels between this sight and that of a single dandelion in a grassy sea; a foreign weed infiltrating previously virgin lands. The viera cared not for such things; action was what he lived by.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He strode forth, and approached the prince silently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though no sound nor whisper of his approach could be heard, the hyur stood up to face them, youthful features set into a stern expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The viera lifted his chin, and he watched how the boy shifted, his jaw tensing and his shoulders squared into a pose far more befitting a leader.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For all his small stature--mayhap the viera would find a spine forged of steel and strength beholden within his limbs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Doma's prince would need it, to take back his nation from Garlemald.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Monument</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The stone before him was far too diminished a memorial for a man as vibrant or vivacious as Haurchefant had been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Warrior set down the shield that had been presented to him by the stone, staring down at the grave with naught but fury in his breast. He recalled then those last words, bravely spoken and imbued with the whimsy that so characterised the knight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A request for him to smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The viera was no hero for all that he was lauded as one; he could smile not as the man bled out from the wound so punctured through his chest. Instead, he had reached out and took hold of his gauntlet-sheathed hand, holding onto his palm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the weakening of his limbs, the light fading from his eyes, the elezen had gripped his hand fiercely and he had smiled through the blood bubbling past his lips, staining his teeth and skin crimson.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The viera could say naught other than that, having neither the time nor the words to say anything else. And so, Haurchefant had passed, gifted with this sole and singular moment of softness from the viera. The viscera clinging to his countenance had been in stark contrast to the peace etched underneath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The viera wondered then, had he known that the elezen's end would happen that day, would he have done anything different? Would he have shown the foolish man gratitude more often?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Regrets trailed after him, one after the other, as his allies and his clan were stolen from him ere he was ready for them to leave. Words left unsaid, debts to be left unpaid…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was surely rage that filled his heart as he stood before the grave, that left him curling his fingers into fists by his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shield before him was all that was left of the infuriating elezen. Upon it, the hole that that man, that single Knights Twelve, had bore into the steel yet remained as a testament to the blow that had taken Haurchefant's life. A blow that had been meant for the viera himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Should we say a few words before we go?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alphinaud's voice came softly, breaking through the viera's fixation upon the shield.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He was… a kind man. I don't think we would ever be able to encounter someone like him ever again," the boy continued quietly. "I am proud to have known him, and prouder still to have called him both friend and ally. I'll forever carry his deeds in my heart, and strive to be even half as good of a man as he."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The viera turned his head away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haurchefant had been a </span>
  <em>
    <span>foolish</span>
  </em>
  <span> man. Kindness or goodness were no words to describe his senseless pursuit of justice, his eternal altruism and optimism.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This dull grave should not have been his resting place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not in the cold, not upon this lonely cliff looking over a city for which he had shed blood and ultimately his own life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should have been scattered into the wind, to be set free to travel the earth as wildly as his manner had been.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I've been too much of a coward to visit his grave in-game.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Warriors of Light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It had not occurred to the viera until after the events of Azys Lla of the implications of Iceheart's fall. She had held a Crystal of Light as she summoned Shiva--and it was that trinket that revealed that she too had been a Warrior of Light as he himself was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered then, had she never taken up her cause--would she have been the one to take up the mantle that he currently so donned? In such a world, she would have been Ysayle Dangoulain, the Champion of Eorzea and Warrior of Light… and him, the lone male viera.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What would his life have been had he never discovered his so-called Blessing of Light? He could have, mayhap, continued his mercenary life as an adventurer, traveling Gridania aimlessly until either death or circumstance took him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hapless with his forgotten memories… lacking both comrades and allies, hardened and bitter in the constant pursuit of coin to survive, it could have been a lesser life. Or mayhap, it could have been a better one, lacking both the responsibilities and burdens he was now expected to carry upon his shoulders.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>831</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Soju</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You are far too quiet, my friend!"</p><p>The viera grimaced as Gosetsu's palm came down as a hammer upon his back, sparking both pain and fire from the single touch. However, he moved not away from the samurai as he continued to grasp at the liquor bottles that awaited him upon the table, fondling at their necks to pry them open.</p><p>"You are too loud," the viera refuted, glancing up at his companion's countenance.</p><p>Gosetsu burst out at once with a booming laugh. "Those are the exact words that Yugiri once said to me! Had you not been so clearly not of Doma, mayhap I could have mistaken you for one of her shinobi!" He swung his head back once more and took long and noisy draughts of his drink, seemingly unaffected by the copious amounts of alcohol that now coursed his veins.</p><p>Following his example, the Warrior raised his own jug to his lips, drinking deeply at the rice wine so characteristic of the Far East. Though clean in flavour, it burned its way down his throat, searing as if cherry-red coals rather than liquid.</p><p>The Warrior hadn't expected it to be quite this strong. He swallowed hard, swallowing the urge to cough--but the discerning samurai beside him seemed to have caught his discomfort.</p><p>Bursting out into yet another uproarious laughter, Gosetsu slapped at his own knee and proclaimed mirthfully, "Quite different to what you're used to, no?"</p><p>The viera shook his head in affirmation.</p><p>"Ah, yes--I have noticed that the common ale served at the taverns so often in Eorzea is most weak. Nevertheless… Sharing your first taste of soju with the likes of an old man like me? I am honoured!" Gosetsu's face broke out into a radiant grin, and he reached out to pound the Warrior's back with his mighty fist once more. "Drink up, my mighty friend! Tonight is a night of celebration--for we have won my lord his Nadaam!"</p><p>At the mention of this lord, the viera turned his head.</p><p>Across the campfire, Hien could be seen laughing alongside Cirina and Lyse, the set of his shoulders loose and the smile on his face alight with triumph.</p><p>This was the man that had vowed to retake his people from the Garleans, who would have put his own blade to his own neck had that been the will of his men. The Warrior wondered what manner of conviction that the prince had, that he would so easily and willingly give himself up for an entire populace of people he knew not by name.</p><p>He was reminded in that moment of an ally long lost; a fool who would sacrifice his own life for others.</p><p>Looking back to Gosetsu, he could see how the roegadyn's expression had softened as he regarded the Doman prince, and how his fist had tightened around the neck of his soju bottle.</p><p>He wondered if Gosetsu could see that potential future in Hien too.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Don't @ me w/ saying that I should be saying shochu instead.</p><p>Also, another Haurchefant reference??? They're more likely than you'd think.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. To Make Camp</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Despite all of their differences and trials, the group had found some measure of mutual peace with one another:</p><p>The viera quietly whittled and fletched new arrows with Alphinaud sat by his side, staring up at the sky in wonder.</p><p>Estinien sat on his lonesome in his corner of their campsite, mulling over his bowl of stew.</p><p>Iceheart sat across him, raising her hands to warm them over the fire that Alphinaud had so diligently made. The flames cast her icy hues a warm red, and in the darkness of the night, she was more akin to a wraith than man.</p><p>Mayhap a man of greater mystery than he would have wondered at what thoughts passed through her mind in that instant, but the viera was not he.</p><p>He turned his gaze towards Alphinaud, who continued to shiver at his side for all that his countenance was now set into a fierce scowl.</p><p>"Sit closer to the fire, Alphinaud." The viera's words were quiet, but in the silence of the night, it carried far.</p><p>Estinien raised his head from his bowl, and his lips were now curled into a sneering smirk. "Is the boy cold?" He asked, words as biting as ever. "I can see you shivering like a leaf, <em> Alphi </em>."</p><p>The young academician's scowl deepened. "I am not!" He protested. "And don't call me that!"</p><p>Neither of the other elezen seemed to care.</p><p>"For all that these lands snow not like the rest of Coerthas, we are still high up in the mountains," Iceheart stated, standing up to retrieve something from her packs. "Here--I had the foresight to bring extra linens, which may help to stave off the cold."</p><p>The viera watched warily as she approached, setting the linens atop of Alphinaud's lap. It was telling that he protested not any further, and thanked her instead mullishly.</p><p>Estinien snorted derisively from his vantage, raising the bowl to his lips to finally partake in his meal.</p><p>The viera took up his knife once more and a slender branch, whittling it down until it was straight enough to service as an arrow.</p><p>And so, night passed into day in the Dravanian highlands of the Churning Mists.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In other words, Alphinaud is baby.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Emerald Sea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hien strikes me as a man w/ wanderlust.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"It's beautiful, is it not?" Hien asked quietly at his side. "Ere coming here, I could not have imagined a more peaceful place--a sea of emerald that kisses the horizon of purest sapphire, dripping with gold when the sun rises and glowing like rubies when it sets. For all that Doma holds my heart… this place, its effect upon the soul is indescribable."</p><p>The viera looked not at the prince, continuing to look out upon the fields that luxuriated under the rising sun, each facet of the earth drinking in its golden light.</p><p>This place had nary a tree in sight, and yet there was a sense of lush vivacity that arose from the sight of its emerald sea of grass and its high-reaching peaks.</p><p>Unspoiled by the touch of man, the Azim Steppe was as virgin as lands could be in this age old world--and the very air itself seemed imbued with a <em> wildness </em> that could be found nowhere else save for in his memories of Golmore. The taste of the wind upon his tongue stung with a proud ferocity, bringing neither the scent of chemical nor smoke.</p><p>This place was no forest as Gridania had been nor a jungle thicket as his homeland was, but mayhap, he would find some great measure of peace in this land.</p><p>Already, he found himself looking beyond the horizon to the mountains that embraced this boundless field, and he felt no yearning to leave.</p><p>He wished to wander these lands when all was said and done in Doma and Gyr Abania, to become part of a land once more that was untouched and wild and as free as the wind. He wanted to be as trees in a great and ancient forest, planting his roots down here and entrenching himself within its soil, to wrap himself up within layer upon layer of bark and history as decades passed in this land.</p><p>The Steppe called for him like no other land before, not Gridania nor Golmore, not Ishgard nor Ala Mhigo.</p><p>He found within Hien's yearning voice a kindred spirit.</p><p>"Would you stay here?" The viera asked quietly, stirred by something that had to be a whim. "If you had had the chance."</p><p>The expression upon the prince's countenance was bewildered in his internal conflict.</p><p>"... My responsibilities to my people say no," Hien finally murmured, voice near lost to the wind. "I <em>cannot</em>."</p><p>Such was the fate of men so bound to duty indeed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Sire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The topic of family came up only once in his time with the Scions.</p><p>Having caught his lingering stare upon a hyur heavy with child, Alisaie had grinned up at him, far too mischievous and observant for her seventeen summers. </p><p>"Getting distracted, Warrior?" She had asked. "We've an empire to fight, not women to spring progeny." Her hair, white as bleached silk, had streamed with the hot Ala Mhigan wind.</p><p>He had looked back at her with a measured stare, and shaken his head in a negative response.</p><p>Alisaie, however, had proven to be just as tenacious and curious as her twin. She had continued to ask: "So, then, Warrior of Light--would you enlighten me as to your interest in that woman? You've eyed not a single man nor woman in all the time I've known you, and now you seem to be unable to tear your eye away from this one!"</p><p>She had been evidently unwilling to give up on her queries.</p><p>The Warrior had frowned, and he then turned his head away from the hyuran woman.</p><p>"I was reminded," he had said quietly, "that I have children."</p><p>Her eyes had widened, and she near stumbled in her distraction.</p><p>"<em> Excuse me? </em> " She had cried loudly. "What do you mean you have children?!" She then paused, and eyed him more warily, demanding, "How old <em> are </em> you, Warrior?"</p><p>Her overt confusion had elicited not a small measure of mirth within him, and he had smiled at her disbelief.</p><p>"Older than your reckoning. Older than mine own, mayhap," the viera had stated. When she had continued to stare, he thus inclined his head, further explaining, "I am certain that I have sired my share of children in days long past. I remember naught more than that."</p><p>He knew not the names of the viera he had sired, nor their faces, nor their wellbeing. It could have been any number of summers ago, ten, fifteen, fifty. His children, whomever they were, could have been alive or dead for all that he knew.</p><p>Alisaie had continued to look troubled, and looked away from him.</p><p>"Would you return to your family, Warrior?" She had asked, softly. "I doubt anyone would deny you your return to whence you have come."</p><p>The viera then turned his eyes to the Ala Mhigan horizon, and he had shook his head.</p><p>It mattered not now, when he had found new in the Scions a clan, people for which to raise his bowarm.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In other words, I guess that the viera is a DILF.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Tiniest yet Mightiest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Warrior was not a man so easily cowed, but the sight of Tataru approaching with a tape measure in hand had him backing away reflexively, eyes widening in equal measures both shock and concern.</p><p>
  <span>She barely reached his knees in height. How was it that she could so summon such an <em>imposing</em> aura around herself?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was something to be feared about the gleam of her countenance, and the way she hungrily eyed him from vieran head to bare toes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... Not even under Nidhogg’s eye had he ever felt so diminished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was for that that despite having three of Rowena's staff  accompanying her, they were made inconsequential in the face of Tataru's hungry stare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Move not a single ilm!” She ordered, eyes bright and her hands buttressed upon her hips. “I shall have your measurements by the end of today—or Twelve so help me, you will regret it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was naught he could do to escape, unless he were to quit the Scions altogether.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The viera pursed his lips, and he glanced away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as he would have liked to escape whatever plans that Tataru had in store for him, it was not viable to realise this desire in the slightest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Make it quick." He murmured finally, succumbing to his fate with ill grace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so, Tataru and her trio of carrion birds descended upon him.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Look, when a lalafellin woman looks at you that way, you either run for the hills or acquiesce.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Kinslayer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>At Baelsar’s Wall did Ilberd stand before him, a smug expression painted across his traitorous countenance. For a man so disgraced, he looked well. Well enough to play the pretence of a leader, well enough to stand before him as the Griffin, shining in his silver armour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The viera’s countenance twisted with rage as he regarded the man before him, his grip tightening upon the bow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sloppy," the man remarked mockingly, tan lips spreading into a wide grin. "Are you not the vaunted Warrior of Light?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This man was the reason for Minfilia's disappearance, the deaths of the countless Scions, and the tragedy that had forced him to flee with Alphinaud to Ishgard. All for gold, all for naught but this: pointless deaths of his countrymen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Countless bodies surrounded them lifeless and bleeding, though cut down by Garleans, ultimately caused by this man in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Traitor, kinslayer, scum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The viera spared no words for this man, nocking an arrow to his bow as his aether rose within his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ilberd would die this day, by his hand or by another's.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It's probably more accurate to write "sloppeh".</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Grooming and Preening</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The viera remained still where he sat against the warm bulk of his companion, half in a doze as the rhythmic touch upon his hair lulled him.</p><p>To the side, he could hear Emmanellain's amused tittering, and a stableboy hushing him hastily. He cared not to open his eyes to ascertain the source of their amusement, instead enjoying the gentle grooming to which he was subject.</p><p>Above him, the chocobo cooed out a soft <em> kweh! </em> and continued to bury its beak into his hair. Only occasionally did he shift in discomfort as strands were pulled out by the merciless bird.</p><p>Ere long, he could hear Emmanellain approach, his steps heavier and far more tenacious than the nervous stableboy's raindrop-like stride. The boy let out a muted curse at having been unable to deter the lord.</p><p>The viera stifled the urge to smile.</p><p>"Enjoying yourself, old boy?" The youngest Fortemps asked, boisterous and full of a cheer that was often unintentionally malicious in nature. "I daresay you've been adopted as one of the girl's chicks!"</p><p>The viera finally opened his eyes to regard the lord before him.</p><p>Emmanellain was, uncharacteristically, not dressed in his usual finery.</p><p>Dressed lighter in leathers and furs with a sword upon his hip, the boy looked ready to depart upon a hunting trip rather than frolic the Crozier as he often did. More conspicuous was the absence of the smaller boy, Honoroit, and the viera found himself looking around for him.</p><p>"Are you looking for my pageboy?" Emmanellain asked grinningly. "I'll have you know that he's been given the day off! Whereas <em> I </em> am off to Camp Dragonhead, to once again fulfill the duties so charged to me by my father!"</p><p>Proudly did the cockerel strut before the viera, his chest puffed up as if he bore a fine plumage.</p><p>The viera shifted, pushing the chocobo away when its beak unerringly found his crown once more. The black bird let out a soft coo, but allowed him to pull free from its preening.</p><p>"Then go," the viera said as he stood up, brushing himself free of straw and sawdust. "And bother me not."</p><p>Emmanellain let out a series of words most indignant, but the Warrior did not care to listen. Instead, he pet the chocobo upon its crown, watching how its eyes closed in pleasure at the gentle touch.</p><p>He wondered if he spent not enough time here in Ishgard, and whether he took as much care of this gift of his as he supposed he should. The fine plumage the chocobo bore was surely the result of the careful attentiveness of the Fortemps staff rather than his own.</p><p>He paused when a second hand joined his, stroking the chocobo upon its beak.</p><p>The Warrior followed the hand back to its owner with his eyes, and he found that Emmanellain's countenance was set into something far more solemn, uncharacteristic for the jovial boy.</p><p>"This steed was from Haurchefant, was it not?" The boy asked quietly. "He used to enjoy breeding chocobos. Said that it was a fine hobby for a noble, and that it helped to whittle the days away at the front. Not that, of course, he was <em> officially </em> a noble, but none of us begrudged him of his hobbies, save for our mother. Well, Artoirel's and my mother."</p><p>The viera withdrew his hand from the bird, but it seemed preoccupied with enjoying Emmanellain's continued attentions, cooing as the boy cleverly found some favourite spot to pet.</p><p>"I suppose I shall have to take up the lines that he's kept at the Camp," the boy continued, oblivious to the viera's discomfort. "Mayhap I shall discover the selfsame joy that he did in breeding these birds."</p><p>Emmanellain sent the viera a swift glance, a smile blooming upon his lips.</p><p>"I like to think of myself as a quick study. What say you, old boy? Think I'll be able to do it?"</p><p>The Warrior thought for a moment.</p><p>When he inclined his head, that smile turned radiant. And in that instant, could the viera see the same spirit of vivacity that had once been so prominent in the Fortemps line.</p><p>Haurchefant, the viera thought in a rare moment of nostalgia, would be proud of his brother.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>:')</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Commonality</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>These so-called Warriors of Darkness had naught to show for it except for their weapons and their words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The viera regarded the man standing at their head, serving as both leader and vanguard for their company of five.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bearded was he, clad in furs and leathers with an axe upon his shoulder. He was small, slight in form, with an appearance that was dismissable as something abnormally </span>
  <em>
    <span>common</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The Warrior would have been hard-pressed to single him out in a crowd, for he was so unassuming in both looks and mannerisms when stood still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been in their fight against Ravana that he had shown some manner of brilliance. The flash of his steel, the strength of his arms...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Urianger, mayhap, would wonder who these men were, that they would so boldly claim to fight in the name of darkness. However, he was not here, and the viera cared little for matters of Light nor Dark. What he had care for was this: the fact that they held their arms against him and his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The glint in the warrior's eyes bespoke of his intent to do harm. In response, the Warrior drew his sword from his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though never would the words leave his lips, he would sooner court death than to allow the same fate befall that of his companions.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>No joke, my first reaction to Ardbert was "Why does he look so normal?" and "He looks boring." Never have I been so wrong.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. As Befits The Warrior</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>In the aftermath of Ul'dah, it had become apparent that the viera had not the right clothes to survive in frozen Coerthas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Count of House Fortemps had sent him and Emmanellain to the Jewelled Crozier to remedy that, and though the Warrior had no small amount of distaste for the busy market, he had eventually conceded once Tataru had sent wide eyes at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thin cotton vest he had once used in warmer Gridania had been replaced by a thick down-lined coat, and his leather armour now lined with furs. His trousers had been replaced with padded wool, and it seemed that he had found all that he needed--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except sharp-eyed Honoroit had stared down at his feet, and remarked upon his lack of suitable shoes for the snow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three bells later, and it came to this:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cobblers of Ishgard had sent him away, one after the other, shaking their heads as they regarded his feet in confusion, uncertain as to how to recreate shoes that would fit him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had tried every manner of Eorzean footwear they had on offer, from their boots to their dress shoes, to their sandals and their slippers, and naught could comfortably fit him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The arch of his feet was too short, one particularly anxious cobbler had muttered, and his heel far too vertically displaced from the balls of his feet. Mayhap he would be better suited looking to a women's cordonnier for a set of heels!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emmanellain had laughed uproariously at the declaration, but the viera would do exactly that, having no other option available to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The laughter had faded into disbelief as the young elezen watched him striding into the first women's store he could find and situated himself amongst their shoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though the Ishgardians had hummed and hawed and stammered in scandalised voices that he would so desire shoes that befitted women, upon discovering the architecture of his feet, their horror had swiftly shifted to understanding. And in the case of a certain few, even envy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The viera averted his eyes from one particularly conspicuous voyeur, who watched with no small amount of covetousness as he was fitted into his shoes under the discerning eye of the shoemaker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was disconcerted by the attention, but his Fortemps-appointed companion seemed to swell up, eagerly soaking it in. Honoroit, the pageboy, at least seemed to share his distaste for the attention, and occasionally sent him a watery eyes look of understanding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mayhap the viera would be able to use Emmanellain as a barrier against the public eye of Ishgard, for he so seemed to enjoy the stares.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When bidden by the cordonnier, he stood, assaying a few steps around the store.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Eight ilms!" He could hear the woman gasp to her companion. "And he totters not!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his side, the infuriatingly chatty Emmanellain nudged his side with a pointed elbow. When the Warrior chanced a look towards him, he could see a smarmy smile upon the boy's face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You are the talk of the town amongst the womenfolk, old boy! And all you had to do was stride about in a pair of heels!" Emmanellain hissed gleefully. "Perhaps I should try this too?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beside him, Honoroit sighed, and attempted to dissuade his master.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The viera turned away from the two boys, and approached the cordonnier once more to work out the remaining details of his footwear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mayhap the Warrior would be able to convince the craftsman to convert the heel into a spike, such that he could use it both to secure his grip upon the snow, as well as a makeshift weapon.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>SquEnix said no viera rights. Let my viera have shoes that fit their real feet dammit.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. A Beauty Reborn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The aesthetician was eccentric in a manner that rather put him at ease rather than on guard.</p><p>So blatant was his manner as he approached that the viera flinched not from his touch, instead staying still as the elezen pushed at his ears to run his fingers through his hair, humming and hawing.</p><p>Mayhap the way in which he was so manipulated was objectifying in nature, but the viera cared not. He doubted that this act was done solely towards him alone, and that all that came under the aesthetician's eye became dolls upon which he practiced his craft.</p><p>"Yes," Jandelaine announced finally, solemnly. "From this cesspit of sorrow and horror shall an image of magnificence arise anew, a beauty reborn!"</p><p>The viera could not stop his snort of mirth at the descriptor. To be so described as a cesspit--had he been a more arrogant or ego-centric man, he would have never recovered from such words.</p><p>“Now--be still! We shall begin now.”</p><p>As instructed, he remained still upon his seat as the elezen began to run his hands and scissors through his hair, manipulating it this way and that, snipping at the black tresses.</p><p>The soft snipping of Jandelaine's scissors and the elezen's quiet and fervent muttering eventually put the viera in a quiet, near-meditative state, his eyes closing as he allowed the other free-reign. Those hands moved over his head, from one side to the next, and back again. Fingers carded through his hair, carefully avoiding his ears.</p><p>An unknown amount of time passed. Eventually, an ivory comb ran through his hair, dragging against his scalp pleasantly.</p><p>However, that seemed not to be the end of the elezen’s treatment. A deft but light hand drifted across his face, the feather-soft bristles of a brush swiping the lids of his eyes with the softest touch.</p><p>And finally--</p><p>"There you are," the elezen crooned, voice intimate and full of pride. "My work is complete, and you, my friend, are a work of art indeed."</p><p>The viera opened his eyes.</p><p>He felt no different.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In Which The Viera Gets Pampered and Enjoys Himself.</p><p>Also is this me being low-key salt that viera have virtually no hairstyles? Yes. I demand viera glam rights.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Impositions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The viera hadn't expected Tataru to invite herself along with him when he had set out from the the Waking Sands, a hatchet upon his back and a scythe in his hands.</p><p>However invite herself she did indeed, and he was mostly powerless to stop her.</p><p>"It has been far too long since I've been able to leave Vesper Bay!" She had exclaimed, her hand gripping tight the sleeve of his trousers. She had looked up towards him, eyes wide and as pink as the inner flesh of ripe mangosteens. "And as you recall, Minfilia always insists that I should never venture out without a minder--and I could hardly be safer than when by your side!"</p><p>He had been unable to argue with that, and she had sworn vehemently to not stray far from his side. Lacking any other argument to deter her from joining him, they had departed from the village with her doggedly attempting to match his much longer stride.</p><p>It had become evident even before they had arrived at the docks that she would be unable to match him pace for pace, and he had requisitioned a steed for her to sit upon.</p><p>And thus, she followed after him sat upon a rather diminutive chocobo, looking far too content with herself as they made for the boat to La Noscea, where he intended on finding materials to both sell and to craft with.</p><p>Her face was alight with joy when she had realised where he had intended on going, and she clapped her hands with delight.</p><p>"I haven't been to Limsa in forever!" She cried out, beaming up at him. "Would you mind if we stayed for a little while so that I can buy some things? Horizon, even with how busy it's become, doesn't have everything I need for my little projects."</p><p>The viera paused in thought. His intention had been to travel to Upper La Noscea to harvest great amounts of pixie plums and noble grapes, and he preferred not to waste time waiting for her to shop.</p><p>He doubted they would return until the hour grew late, and the markets closed. Would it be better to await her prior to departing? Then again, she may become laden with her shopping if he did, and then beg to return to the Waking Sands, leaving him with naught to show for his trip.</p><p>He frowned.</p><p>"When we return." He compromised, though giving her not the chance to argue.</p><p>Tataru pouted at him for quite some few moments, but swiftly recovered her cheer when it became apparent that he would not be swayed. “Very well. I’ll hold you to your promise, Warrior!”</p><p>Her smile had returned, sunny and bright. It gave him a rather chilling impression that he had been manipulated somehow, and that he had played right into her hands.</p><p>Upon landing in Limsa Lominsa, he took hold of the reins of her little chocobo and led their way from the busy port city, deftly avoiding the crowds.</p><p>Surprisingly, she remained mostly silent throughout their trip through La Noscea, contenting herself with humming softly to herself as they trekked through the lowlands. She remained content to entertain himself even when they had arrived at Memeroon’s Trading Post and he began to busy himself with foraging its surrounding areas.</p><p>At some point, he even forgot her presence, losing himself in the repetitive motions of searching for a ripe bushel of plums or grapes and harvesting them from the underbrush.</p><p>Bells passed by, and it was only when the sun fell low upon the horizon that he recalled his companion.</p><p>Turning, he found the chocobo riderless, and Tataru missing. He would have started searching for her, had he not promptly saw her speaking animatedly with a qiqirn. Memeroon, he assumed, though he was unfamiliar with the qiqirn of the trading post.</p><p>By the diminished body language of the qiqirn, the viera received the impression that she had rather successfully bullied it into doing whatever she intended.</p><p>That was a trait he had gradually noticed that she carried far too proudly.</p><p>Mayhap she would need not to linger in Limsa, he thought, as he returned to her with his bags full of fruit. He did not doubt her ability to terrorise all that she needed from the qiqirn.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The viera is honestly impressed at Tataru's ability to coerce any being, willing and unwilling, into doing her bidding.<br/>I think it's obvious at this point that I have a few great loves in FFXIV: Haurchefant, Tataru + Aymeric.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Disorientation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Not the best thing I've ever written, but hey, I wrote something.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Shiva, destroyed, and Iceheart, retreated--and now, the Warrior, returned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stumbled into Camp Dragonhead in the height of the night as snow swirled around him, buffeting his body in an oppressive onslaught.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Icicles hung from his hair, dripping slowly onto his skin as they melted within the warmth of the intercessory. There was a dying flame at the fireplace, and thus the room was hot; as hot as Thanalan when the sun was at its zenith and the sands baked until the air shimmered with illusions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The viera could stop not his trembling under the layers upon layers of woollen cloths he had wrapped around his heated body, and he struggled against those suffocating binds, tugging them off with fingers that shook violently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was feverish, heated to the point of agony.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His entrance drew the notice of the boy who had awaited him in the room, who instantly closed in around him, replacing each layer he attempted to shed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were no words of adulation nor congratulations from Alphinaud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You must remain warm, Warrior! Tis a trick of the mind--you are freezing!" The boy exclaimed, but those words registered not within his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It is too hot," the Warrior refuted, and he pushed the boy aside. He finally managed to pull his gloves from his hands, and revealed fingertips tinged blue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sparked a flurry of activity around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy ran from the intercessory, hollering for chirurgeons. The next instance, knights brandishing torches burst into the room with chirurgeons following after, and Haurchefant too shadowed their footsteps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It all seemed to blur, the sequence of events all merging into one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bring him to the fire!” hissed a medic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, we must let him warm up gradually!” refuted the next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither of that matters when he is yet wet—dry him, lest the chill worsen and pneumonia take him!” the third cried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And they descended upon him, their hands searing brands against his skin. He flinched from their molten touch, his recoiling smothered by the linens they wrapped around his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The murmuring of Haurchefant and Alphinaud, the frantic exclamations of the chirurgeons, it faded into white noise that deafened him, just as much as those hands and linens drowned him in fire.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Shiva trapping you in ice and stepping on you might look hot but it's pretty cold actually.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Favours and Progress</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hien stood before him with an apologetic smile on his face. "It troubles me to ask this of you," he began hesitantly, "and I know that I already owe so much to you, but… could I trouble you to do a favour for me?"</p><p>The viera did not bother to disguise his scoff, but he nodded once, pinning Hien with his stare.</p><p>The newly instated king was chagrined, for sure, but not enough to rescind his requests. "As you know, we are still in the process of rebuilding the Enclave," he began, "and I cannot abandon my position here. However, it is nearly time for the New Year--by our reckoning, not yours--and we have not the supplies to celebrate it. Could I trouble you to go to Kugane and secure the goods we require?"</p><p>The Warrior's expression surely soured at the thought of returning to Hingashi. However, Hien had proven to be a man to honour his debts, and he minded not fulfilling his favours as he would have minded had anyone else requested this of him.</p><p>"What do you need?" The viera asked gruffly, ere the silence lingered too long and the king thought his reticence as refusal.</p><p>"Thank you, my friend, a thousand times over! The goods we require make quite the... <em> extensive </em> list, so I've written it all down for you." Hien's countenance had lit up with his joy, and he reached into an unknown pocket to retrieve a slip of folded paper, charmingly in the shape of a fish.</p><p>The viera looked at the sheet of paper with no small amount of interest, having never seen such a thing before.</p><p>Hien, noting his curiosity, held the fish-shaped paper up higher. He smiled, though looked slightly embarrassed. "We call this art origami. I folded this myself, hoping to bring some measure of luck and prosperity to you on this quest. Better that I hand you a <em>yu</em> than an order, is that not right?"</p><p>Only through the Echo was the viera capable of understanding the Doman word that Hien spoke. <em>Yu</em>; abundance. <em>Yu, </em>fish.</p><p>"I really wish I didn't have to impose upon you like this, but there is no one else I could ask for help with this…" And with those words, the king finally passed the fish to the viera, who unfolded it carefully to find an intimidatingly long list.</p><p>It was solely by the virtue of his Echo that he could read the words, and even then, he knew not what to which the majority of the words referred. He knew not what <em> soup ball </em> was, nor what was meant by <em> lucky tangerine </em>.</p><p>The Warrior stated down at the paper for quite some time.</p><p>"Warrior? Is something the matter?" Hien asked, peering up at him with worry clear upon his countenance.</p><p>The viera paused. He shook his head, folded the list once more into a far less elaborate rectangle, and tucked it into his pockets.</p><p>Nodding to Hien in farewell, he took his leave to Hingashi--where he would duly drop the list off with Hancock, and have the merchant secure the goods in his stead.</p><p>Hancock would surely enjoy it, and undoubtedly, Tataru too would join in. She enjoyed the markets far too much than was wise.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>u.u Hien is a good boy and the Doman deserve to have their first liberated Lunar New Year in style.</p><p>Also the fish that the paper was folded into was a dragonfish, otherwise known as an arowana.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Manners</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The viera grimaced at the missive that was placed before him by the harried courier, who swiftly vanished from the now-silent dining room after announcing the origins of the missive: the Rising Stones.</p><p>The Scions were calling once more, undoubtedly to request his assistance in some matter once more. He had abandoned his linkpearl in his rooms to avoid this, but it seemed that his duties would not allow him to forsake them.</p><p>"Put it in the fireplace and get back to your food," Hilda remarked bluntly, causing him to raise his head to look at her in surprise.</p><p>She raised her brow back at him.</p><p>"You are allowed to want things too, y'know," said Hilda reproachfully, brandishing her fork at him. "You're the bleedin' Warrior of Light. You've done enough service to this godsforsaken realm without taking anything back! And don't feed me any shite about gil, gil ain't enough to make up for singlehandedly ending the bloody war against the dragons..."</p><p>The piece of pie that she had had skewered to its pronged tips fell upon the table with her violent gesticulations, and she looked down upon it in horror.</p><p>The viera disguised not his snort of mirth when she instantly scooped it up with her fingers and popped it into her mouth, far too amused by the disgust that crossed the face of highborn Artoirel where he sat across from them.</p><p>"But then again, with how the Lord Speaker sends such blatant moon-glazed eyes at you, you might've been enjoying the flesh of man instead of material goods," Hilda continued. "He's certainly easy on the eyes, is he not? If he weren't so obviously taken by you, I wouldn't have minded visiting his chambers and see whether he can <em> truly </em>use that tongue of his for the betterment of man."</p><p>Artoirel continued to look horrified, but now, his countenance had taken on a reddish hue. "Is this truly talk that we must have over lunch?" He asked plaintively.</p><p>One would have thought that Artoirel would have been used to Hilda's shameless crudity by now, considering he so often surrounded himself with knights that surely were as crass as she could be.</p><p>Hilda barely even spared him a look, instead leering at the viera. "Well, Warrior? How <em> does </em> our Lord Speaker perform?"</p><p>The new Count Fortemps made an ambiguous sound, reddened face now turned to the Warrior in an unspoken plea. By the account of the growing smirk upon her face, Hilda was not, in fact, ignoring Artoirel. Much like the Warrior, she delighted far too much in his fluster.</p><p>"One should not admit such private things." The Warrior finally said. He smiled at Artoirel's wide eyed stare and Hilda's raucous laughter.</p><p>"Comments of… Lord Aymeric's performance aside, I believe that Lady Hilda's remarks bear repeating," came the voice of the man seated to the Warrior's left.</p><p>Edmont, at the head of the table, had naught but indulgent amusement upon his face. He was serene in the face of Hilda's blatant refusal to adhere to Ishgardian etiquette, just as he was willing to overlook the Warrior's unjudicious use of his knife in lieu of a fork.</p><p>"While one should think that a blessed Warrior sent by the Twelve should be beyond the wants and desires of mortal flesh, you are but a man behind that title," Edmont continued, nodding towards the viera. "You are most certainly allowed to be selfish. It is not a failing on your part to refuse requests for your assistance to accept instead a period of rest. And as ever, our house will ever be open for you to stay."</p><p>"And if the Scions come calling at their door, you can nip down to the Brume. You have allies there too," Hilda was swift to add, nodding firmly. She grinned at him, her eyes gleaming. "I'm pretty sure we can find a way to hide you away, ears notwithstandin'. Might need to tie them down somehow though… think you could cram 'em under a hat?"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Why is Hilda having lunch with the Fortemps? Who knows.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. To Welcome Propserity To Your Doorstep</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Continuation of Ch.28 (Favours and Progress).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wherever the eye rested, the Doman Enclave was draped in jade and crimson and gold. Its half-built walls were not excuse enough for the Doman peoples to do the bare minimum for their New Year's celebrations. Rather, they had gone all-out, cymbals clashing and drums beating to proclaim their joyous time to all of Yanxia.</p><p>The Warrior had not expected such noise to assault him the moment he had travelled to the Enclave, and for a moment, he stood there stunned by the sheer volume of the sounds surrounding him.</p><p>The viera hesitantly moved from the aetheryte at the Enclave's central square, eyes fixed upon a string of paper rods that rapidly popped with frantic energy--and around it laughed children, who screamed happily when two men, one carrying a vibrantly coloured helm in one hand and the other holding the train of shimmering fabric attached to the helm, chased after them.</p><p>What was that helm supposed to represent? Its flowing half-circles looked as if scales, and the largeness of its eyes made it look near comical. By some unknown mechanism, the helm could blink, its ears waggle, and he watched as the man holding the helm made its jaws snap at a mischievous child, who had held her hand out daringly to the fake beast.</p><p>The men laughed as the children ran off again, and they set the helm and train over themselves, the man behind the one carrying the helm stooping over to form a facsimile of a beast. And they set off, dancing along with the clash of cymbals and drums.</p><p>"--Here! A treat to welcome good fortunes!" A woman exclaimed, suddenly coming up to him and pressing a golden coin into his hand--except it was a coin-shaped candy wrapped with golden foil. The woman disappeared ere he could return it to her, swallowed by the crowd of bustling Domans.</p><p>His eyes then fell upon the sight of multiple Domans crowding around a pot, passing around a bowl so that each person could wash their hands and their face with the water--and once washed, they bustled forth towards a temple that he had never noticed in the eastern part of the Enclave.</p><p>It was… distracting and utterly overwhelming, the noises and colours and sheer number of people that filled the Enclave. Had it not been for Hien's heartfelt invitation, he would have left.</p><p>He pocketed the candy coin, pushing his way through the growing crowd to the Kienkan where he hoped to find Hien.</p><p>The king was found there speaking with his retainers. Upon catching sight of the Warrior, Hien brightened, gesturing him forth.</p><p>He was dressed in silks coloured a fiery crimson, gold draping his ears and neck and lining the hem of his robes. It was a far cry to his usual fare, and a great deal more formal.</p><p>When the viera was close enough, Hien spread his arms and exclaimed, "My friend! Let me thank you yet again for your help, and for joining us here today. We could not have had such a joyous occasion without you securing our supplies. We were just about to begin our lunch--would you care to join us? It'll be something light, just to tide us over until dinner."</p><p>The viera hardly had to think. He nodded once, and allowed the king to lead them deeper into the Kienkan to a dining hall, where he could see far more familiar faces already sat awaiting their king.</p><p>Instantly, all those seated rose to their feet, bowing towards Hien in greeting, though the king was swift to wave off their formalities. Yugiri sent him a smile, whereas Hakuro nodded towards him. Both seemed not surprised to meet him, though the other guests moved to greet him far more effusively.</p><p>Eventually, they were all seated, and the food was served. Hien had lied about the lightness of the meal; there were dishes innumerable that covered the table.</p><p>Dish upon dish that the viera could barely recall seeing in Kugane--but for all the familiarity, he was certain that there were some differences between the fare in Hingashi and here in Doma. He couldn't quite tell what it was, however, and peered curiously at the steam baskets that held delicately formed dumplings and buns, and porcelain plates upon which lay late-winter vegetables coated in a glossy sauce. A great variety of other dishes were laid down, but the viera knew not what they were other than their most basic descriptors: noodles, rice and glutinous rice balls.</p><p>The viera was sat by Hien's side, and Hakuro to his other side, and the king took the opportunity to murmur into his ear a wry, "I hope you were hungry; Hakuro has gotten into the habit of filling my plate up even when I want not any more food. Hopefully, he'll direct this habit towards you instead of me this time."</p><p>The lupin let out a gruff laugh. "You are still eating far too meagrely to regain your strength, my lord. Forgive this one for wishing to see you at your greatest health."</p><p>"Well--regardless of your intent… please, enjoy yourselves!" Hien exclaimed, loud enough that all could hear him.</p><p>With a burst of cheer and impromptu calls of <em>empty glass </em>in the Doman tongue, which led to all but the viera raising their glasses and clashing them against one another and drinking long draughts from their cups, they all began to eat.</p><p>The viera promptly scalded his tongue upon a dumpling, which had burst forth with hot soup when he bit down.</p><p>Hien roared with laughter, even as Yugiri passed him a glass of iced water. "Be careful, my friend! The <em>small dragon bag </em>has burnt many a man, and many more in the years to come!"</p><p>The viera spat out the dumpling to cool his burnt tongue, drinking hastily at the glass even as Hakuro began to laden his bowl with food.</p>
<hr/><p>The viera trailed after Hien and Yugiri once their lunch had been cleared up, and soon, day turned to evening as they wandered the stalls and partook in the celebrations.</p><p>At some point, Yugiri had bought for him a sash of red and bade him to put it on, quietly murmuring that he should keep it on until the hour struck midnight to invite fortune to his coming year. He believed not in these things, but he tied the sash around his waist, causing Hien to nod in approval.</p><p>"I hadn't thought of that--good catch, Yugiri," Hien said with a grin.</p><p>When the Warrior then asked Yugiri of her own crimson wear, she had smiled and raised a finger to her lips.</p><p>"Take my word for it. I am wearing red," she remarked.</p><p>The viera could hazard a guess as to what she meant. He turned from her to regard their surroundings, and found his eyes landing upon the manmade beast that he had seen earlier.</p><p>He pointed at it, and asked her what it was.</p><p>And so, Yugiri quietly explained to him the various manners of celebrations that were observed in Doma, identifying the two-man beast as a lion who chased away evil spirits from their homes. She pointed out the vegetables that hung from each doorway, whether or not the building was completed, and she spoke of the tribute they would pay to their gods for another year of prosperity.</p><p>"Since the occupation, we have not had the chance to celebrate so openly," she remarked with a smile. "The Garleans thought this pagan, an affront to their stance upon eikons. You have helped us recover yet another facet of our freedom and our identity, Warrior, and I cannot thank you enough for this."</p><p>And so they walked, Yugiri pointing out things of interest and Hien delighting in talking with his people, handing out those golden coins as that woman had before and joining the children in setting off firecrackers.</p><p>Soon, when evening had faded into night, finally he watched as Hien sprinkled water over his head and hands at the pot he had noticed bells prior.</p><p>"Come, my friend--cleanse yourself. We shall head to the temple to pray for blessings for the new year," Hien bade, smiling as he held out the bowl for the viera, who noted only then that the bowl was in fact a half of a dried gourd. Water trickled from the king's head, soaking his robes, and he was earnest in his request.</p><p>The viera took the gourd, and poured water over his hands and his head, as he had seen everyone else do. Yugiri followed suit, and they finally took the path to the temple.</p><p>As they went, what caught his eye was a long train of bamboo covered with incense sticks carried aloft by fifty men each bearing a supporting pole within his hand. Three women moved amongst these men, a candle within her hands as she lit the incense sticks.</p><p>As the sticks were lit, it became evident that it had been shaped in the form of some type of serpent.</p><p>Hien grinned back at him. "A fire dragon; we have not had one visit our lands in near three decades. I suspect we'll have to fight for a good vantage to watch it dance later on--so let us hurry! I will not miss it it for the world!"</p><p>They stepped into the temple proper, and the viera was handed a bunch of incense sticks by Hien.</p><p>"We light these, bow our heads with the incense three times as we pray," Hien explained quietly. "Then we place them into the ashes of the brazier. That is all that needs to be done."</p><p>The viera nodded, and followed Hien to the centre of the temple's courtyard where a crowd had formed around the brazier. Person after person awaited their turn to step towards the brazier to make their prayers. When it was finally their turn, the Warrior watched how Yugiri and Hien prayed, then followed suit--but he prayed not, held no words in his mind save for a distant wish that such joyous occasions would be numerous for the peoples of Doma.</p><p>Their incense sticks were set into the ash to burn down, and they returned once more to the Enclave, to watch the dragon made of fire and ash dance through the half-built streets in the cool night. The darkness of the night gave it the illusion of being a true entity, as the bamboo poles holding it high could not easily be seen, and the viera watched in fascination how sparks flew from the incense amidst the smoke the dragon bellowed.</p><p>Beside him, Hien smiled joyously, watching his people celebrate with a sheen to his eyes.</p><p>When the dragon had left them to dance down other streets, Hien bade them to follow him--to once more gorge upon far too much food, this time even more decadent than their lunch.</p><p>They were sat in the aetheryte square where hundreds of tables had been set, and anyone could sit anywhere. The viera found himself seated by Yugiri this time, while Hien and Hakuro were seated at another table. Around the viera, Domans were laughing and chattering, families and friends alike delighting in one another. Soju and baijiu were passed around freely, the children given sweet juices instead, and the viera found himself surprisingly at ease despite the strangers that were pressed up to his side.</p><p>What came were these: a whole suckling piglet, its skin crackling and crisp and its flesh soft and juicy; a steamed fish, almost as long as the table, covered in aromatic herbs and a brown sauce; noodles that were endlessly long that Yugiri choked upon at one point, trying to eat it whole without chewing once; dumplings of all shapes and flavours; steamed buns in the shape of peaches, filled with a sticky sweet paste; and the lucky tangerines that the viera had been tasked to find.</p><p>It was fortunate that for dinner, the entirety of the Enclave joined them.</p><p>His plate was filled, and he filled others' plates; he was encouraged to try all manner of food, and he laughed along side Yugiri as the alcohol dug in and set his mood aloft.</p><p>Eventually, the people of Doma broke away as the food was cleared away, each returning to their own place where they could see the sky--for above them, fireworks bloomed, outshining the stars in the heavens.</p><p>Hien let out a content sigh where they sat by the Kienkan, gazing up above. By his side, Yugiri too watched the skies, her countenance set into something far more innocent in her wonder. Hakuro held out a small segment of a tangerine for the viera, who took it and ate it despite the fullness of his belly.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This became longer than it should have been. It could have been longer, if I decided to add the Scions + Resistance + Xaela like I originally planned, but I decided not to, since this is a fic focusing solely upon the viera Warrior.</p><p>Also did I go ham, depicting the celebrations of my home? Yes. Did I take artistic license to embellish and add certain traditions that are no longer so modern? Yes. Do I regret it? Hell no.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Hope Beyond Reason</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Eyes of Nidhogg had been cast into the abyss and Estinien had been recovered, whole though not hale--and it seemed that </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span>, they had ended the endless chapter of the Dragonsong War.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alphinaud let out a soft sigh where he watched over Estinien's slumbering body, and stood to join the Warrior where he awaited by the doorway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I should apologise. I constantly find myself drawn to Estinien's bedside, though I know I should be helping with Ishgard's restoration," Alphinaud said quietly, looking up at the viera. "... But he has yet to awaken. The chirurgeons have expressed their concerns on whether he will wake, if ever. I worry, that removing the Eyes might have… irreparably damaged our friend."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Warrior regarded Estinien's prone form, his countenance finally bared and shown. He was younger than the viera had anticipated, and his features softer in a way that belied the sharpness of his tongue and manner. He looked as if a marble figure, cold and lifeless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Better to be alive than dead," the Warrior remarked. "But he </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> wake."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How do you know that for sure?" Alphinaud countered, staring up at him with wide eyes full of beseechment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The viera reached out to place his hand upon the top of Alphinaud's head, mussing the hair that had formerly lain flat upon his crown. "He has you and Aymeric awaiting him. Estinien is not a man to fail those counting upon his return."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Warm Embrace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It came not as a surprise that the Waking Sands had a communal bath. Water was yet a commodity in Vesper Bay, even with the ocean by its side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, what came as a surprise was the presence of Thancred within the room, though the hour was past midnight. The viera had hoped that he could bathe in solitude, and it seemed that the Scion had had that same idea in mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred was half-submerged in the pool of water that predominated a corner of the room, looking just as discomfitted as the viera did at his presence. He slid deeper into the water until he was visible solely from his chin upwards, the rest of his body hidden beneath the heated water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The viera pointedly ignored the eyes upon him as he disrobed, setting his travelling leathers upon a bench. He then moved to a tub of warmed water to the side to rinse dust from his skin and hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took hold of the jug that floated within the tub, pouring the heated water over his body, once, twice. He angled his head forward, preventing the water from streaming into his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a damp cloth set to the side, next to which a bar of soap could also be found.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I wouldn't suggest using that. It's one of Y'shtola's soaps, and is far too fragrant for the field." Thancred's voice interrupted him just as he was about to reach for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The viera glanced over, and saw that the Scion had swum to the edge of the pool, peering at him over the stone lip with his head buttressed upon his forearms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're better off using one of the oils there," Thancred continued, gesturing to the shelves that lay above the tub. A number of labelless bottles there stood, each stoppered by a cork lid. "They're scentless, and get the job done just as well as any of Shtola's soaps."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The viera withdrew his hand from the bar of soap, and reached for one of the bottles as directed. "... Thanks," he muttered softly, and in the quiet of the bathing room, Thancred could surely hear him easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No problem." The splashing of water behind him told him how Thancred had moved away from the lip to submerge himself once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The viera smeared the scentless oil over his form, sloughing off layers of dust and dirt from his skin that had accumulated over his travels. It was cathartic in its own way, to be made anew once more in this way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The oil was smooth, not sticky in the slightest, and mixing in with the water turned it a milky white. Pouring more onto his skin, he scrubbed himself clean. </span>
  <span>Then running his fingers through his hair dislodged twigs and small pebbles, only when he was satisfied that he was entirely clean did he rinse himself off once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dirt-filled water upon the floor was carried away to a cleverly designed pipe, and discharged to some unknown place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spared it not a second glance as he strode to the pool where Thancred continued to laze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting within the heated water, it was solely there that the viera relaxed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was naught else like the embrace of a warm bath--and not even the piercing stare of the rogue before him could penetrate his momentary bliss. He ducked fully under the water, and there he remained, holding his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would not emerge from the waters for quite some time thereafter.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thancred and the viera have a low-key solidarity in disliking company when engaging in something fairly vulnerable, such as bathing.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Rust and Waves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Is this IC? Who knows, who cares. They deserve downtime!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>In the wake of the momentary peace won in Gyr Abania, the heads of the Alliance had accepted Hien's invitation to join him in Doma to truly take in the scope of the Scions' actions in repelling Garlemald, and here they now were:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the sandy banks of Yanxia, the smell of grilled fish and vegetables in the air, and both Domans and Eorzeans alike frolicking in the waves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alisaie and Lyse had taken to a friendly competition it seemed, in which they retrieved increasingly greater treasures from the depths of the banks and placed it before Hien to judge. By his side stood a bemused Yugiri, who was surprisingly dressed down with a sunhat upon her head in lieu of her usual hood. Y'shtola was lazily flicking through a book with Krile asleep by her side, both looking indolent as they relaxed under the sun. Tataru, however, was laughing victoriously as Thancred spluttered with water dripping from his face, both Scions seemingly finding far too much joy in splashing water at the other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beyond them, Raubahn stood guard with Pipin as Nanamo traipsed along the banks, picking up shells and rocks with a relish as if she had never indulged in such activities before. The gentle smile upon Raubahn's countenance was only matched by the serenity upon Kan-e-Senna's mien where she floated in the water next to Merlwyb, who was clearly standing in the depths that required the padjal to paddle to stay afloat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Humorously, it seemed that elezen collectively, with the exception of Alisaie, had no talent at staying afloat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The viera stood half-submerged in the waves where the sandy banks gave way to clay, watching how the Gridanian elezen, and Ishgardian knights and their Lord Speaker eyed the water warily and approached it not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alphinaud was found among their number, though his twin had managed to persuade him into removing his coat to change into a lighter fare so as to enjoy the Doman sun, and had deemed himself a worthy helper to the various cooks that were toiling over the coals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mayhap it was due to the coldness of Coerthas that led to the Ishgardians' reticence with open bodies of water, or mayhap their culture of prudence that had them hesitate to remove their armour. Regardless of the reason, the Ishgardians remained in the sweltering humid heat of Doma while the rest of their Eorzean company joined the viera in the water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The viera waded out of the water to stand before Aymeric, who looked up at him in curious askance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Lord Speaker had taken to sitting upon a bench by one of the firepits, surreptitiously dabbing at his damp forehead and hair with a cloth. He seemed to look rather wistfully at the rest of the festivities, something which had eventually coaxed the viera to head in his direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Warrior?" Aymeric asked, smiling up at him. "What brings you to join me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Warrior responded not with words. Instead, he gestured towards the water with a hand, inviting Aymeric silently to join them in the waves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah--I'm afraid I will not partake in those activities. I have not the clothes for it," said the elezen delicately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The viera shook his head ere he crossed his arms. "That matters not. Thancred is in his smalls."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The remark seemed to fluster the man, who continued to murmur soft refusals. "Ah--but that would be… improper. And I could hardly disrobe here."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ishgardians</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Remove the armour." The viera stated. "It will rust."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What? I beg your pardon?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The viera silenced the urge to roll his eyes, and reached out, grabbing the man by his lapels. Heaving him to his feet despite the weight of both his great form and his plate armour, then into the air, he ignored Aymeric's surprised yells and strode towards the banks of the estuary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the strong grip the elezen had on his shoulders and wrist, he could toss not the man into the water as he had so planned. So instead, he took two bounding leaps--and threw them both into the water with a quiet laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cold water engulfed them, and he could hear Aymeric let out a startled yelp before his head had fallen under the waves, and the loud cries of Kan-e-Senna who had been affected by the great splash that they had caused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All was silent save for the rush of water around them; all was white with the foam of their entry swirling around them. Through the bubbles, the viera could see naught; Aymeric's hands continued to grab at him frantically in an attempt to paddle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the viera finally released the man's armour, the elezen grabbed all the more frantically at his shoulders and using it as leverage to breach the water's surface.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The viera rose with him, a smirk most wide on his countenance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his hair no longer in its curls and plastered to his skin much as if they were stubborn vines, and eyes wide with lingering fear, Aymeric looked piteous compared to his usual dignified state. He was also struggling to stay afloat, only able to keep his head above the water by holding onto the viera.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Warrior</span>
  </em>
  <span>!" came Aymeric's scandalised rebuke, airy with his panting. "I cannot believe that--you could… that you would...!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His words were ever cut off by the water around them, waves hitting his countenance and inspiring him to splutter and attempt to wipe at his face. Such an act made his precarious floating all the more precarious, and he dipped under the waves more than once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The viera finally took pity enough on him to swim them closer to the bank, allowing the Lord Speaker to rest his feet upon the sandy floor of the bank.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No longer so deep in peril of drowning, the elezen heaved out a relieved sigh and turned to face the viera.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"--Mayhap you could give me more warning ere you attempt such a thing again, my friend," Aymeric remarked, a spark of humour finally returning to his voice. The Lord Speaker then laughed as he swept his hair back from his eyes, shaking his hands to shake off the saltwater that remained soaked in the fabrics and leathers of his armour. "Ah, it seems that I have no other choice but to join the swimmers indeed."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Warrior inclined his head, and watched as Aymeric loped back to the dryer sands to begin unbuckling his armour--something that began to inspire his fellow Ishgardians into doing the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Plate armour and lances were left upon the sands, and at long last--Eorzeans and Domans were joined by their gangly elezen counterparts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The viera moved to the side, keeping watch over this all. It seemed that elezen were poor swimmers indeed.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. Close Shave</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Set sometime post HW I guess? But preSB.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The rasp of steel against abrasive skin was a sound that the viera had never known prior to his induction into the Scions, at least not in a context such as this.</p><p>He stood at the doorway, curious despite himself as Thancred stood before a mirror, squinting in the low lighting as he rid himself of the beard that yet covered his jawline. In his hand was a razor, similar enough in shape to his familiar knives that it was not a jarring sight to see.</p><p>Soap dripped from the hyur's chin as he carefully drew the blade along his skin. Underneath, skin paler than the rest of his features emerged, shielded from the sun by the whiskers that no longer covered it.</p><p>"Do you not have anywhere else to be?" soon came Thancred's words imbued with ire.</p><p>The Warrior met his gaze steadily through the mirror, and he settled in far more comfortably upon the frame of the door.</p><p>Thancred let out a scoff, but a hint of a smile had appeared upon his lips even as he continued to shave. "I charge by the minute," he then remarked lightly. "You can't afford my prices, Warrior though you may be."</p><p>The viera was silent for some time, watching how the man pawed at his own countenance, freeing his features from its veil of soap. Seemingly unsatisfied by his look, he continued once more, tilting his head to the side to bring the razor along the vulnerable flesh of his throat. It was when Thancred had moved the razor from his skin once more that the viera spoke. "I haven't seen anything worth paying for." </p><p>Thancred dropped the razor from his countenance as he burst into laughter, allowing it to fall into the basin of water before him.</p><p>"The fair maidens of Ul'dah would beg to differ." He exclaimed with a grin. "I would have you know that I am a highly coveted man… wanted in all four corners of Eorzea for my charms."</p><p>"A fortune, then, that I am no maiden. Nor of Ul'dah." The viera stated dryly.</p><p>Thancred's grin widened. "Ah, and the man denies not that he is fair! Should the hero of Eorzea truly be allowed such arrogance?"</p><p>The viera raised his eyes to the heavens.</p><p>At the very least, it seemed that Thancred had regained some measure of his former confidence.</p><p>"You missed a patch," was his final remark, gesturing vaguely at his own face. He then turned to leave Thancred in the bathing house, pawing at his own face to try to find this illusive patch of hair he had missed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Viera don't grow facial hair" is my headcanon.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Winks and shamelessly promotes the Azem fanzine, The Sun's Journey, that I'm modding @ <a href="https://twitter.com/FFXIVAzemZine">FFXIVAzemZine</a>. Applications are closed, but please await future news!</p><p>I'm also found on Twitter @ <a href="https://twitter.com/nymmiah">nymmiah</a>, where I occasionally upload sketches and ideas.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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